


Taste

by Rozel



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozel/pseuds/Rozel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tasting Ray</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to those who asked me to write a 'tasting' story. It fits in with 'Watching'. 'Waiting', 'Listening' and 'A Scent of Man'. Enjoy.

Usual Disclaimer  
I don’t own the characters of Bodie and Doyle, or any others from the TV series. They belong to Mark One Productions and Brian Clemens.  
I borrow them to write fiction for my own (and hopefully your) pleasure, with no financial gain to myself or anyone else.

TASTING

Have you ever wondered what your partner tastes like?

It’s a strange question but one I’ve been pondering since I caught Ray eating a melon, scooping out the delicate flesh with a spoon. He looked so gorgeous, juice running down his chin, as he munched his way through a small Galia, I kissed him impulsively and was rewarded for my efforts by him grabbing me and kissing me back, long and slow. Apart from taking my breath away, my lover also left me with the delicious taste of the melon on my tongue. 

Since then I’ve been attuned to the taste of Ray.

Obviously it is an intimate exercise, but don’t think I’m going to give away any secrets. We’ve been together a while and I’ve spent a lot of time just observing what he does. Ray fascinates me.

I love the quick kiss goodbye when he’s off somewhere without me. It could be accompanied by the minty taste of toothpaste and mouthwash or his favourite arabica coffee. However, if it’s an urgent call out the kiss is perfunctory - his mind is on the job, and there is little time for goodbyes. 

Then there are the times when I sit waiting at the hospital after he’s been injured. Not that often thank goodness, but even so. I’ll kiss him gently, the ‘hospital’ taste permeating his skin. I have to force myself to stay sometimes; seeing him lying in bed recovering goes against my natural desire to sweep him in my arms and take him away from this life. 

Once, I licked away a tiny drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, following his return from apprehending the bad guys. He’d come home without cleaning himself up. The coppery taste reminded me he had faced death once too often for my liking. Ray laughs and tells me not to worry. He’s not going anywhere he says, and reminds me of better days. 

He recalled our recent holiday: it was one of those rare, blustery days in Spain, and the Mediterranean was roiling around us as we splashed about. A wave took us both by surprise, and we surfaced, laughing and clinging to each other. I held him tightly as the water ran off his shoulders, some finding its way into my mouth. The tang of the sea and salt danced on my tongue.

Occasionally I’ll pick him up from the pub. He’ll get in the car, sometimes giggley from too much drink and I am treated to a sloppy, beery kiss. Other times I can taste the whisky or the orange juice. 

Then there are those private moments when we are alone. I’ll run my tongue along his jawline, or his collar bone, or down his chest, savouring his fresh, clean skin flavoured with a hint of aftershave or soap. 

After intimacy, I can taste the sweat on his body. It is the sweetest flavour of all; the essence of a consummated and fulfilling relationship, and I love him for it.

And as for me? Who am I? That is for you to decide. I know I am Ray’s.


End file.
